Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn’t Die?
by Iskjif
Summary: Eventual HPLV:Post OotP. Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursleys' escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Deatheaters come for him, the idea of torture isn’t too unpleasant when at the hands of those who don’t pretend to care
1. A Dark Lord's Discomfort

**Title:** Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif  
**Beta:** None as of yet… I would love one though…  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually)  
**Warnings:** This will eventually have slash my dears, as in yaoi, as in man-on-man action! If any of that strikes you as wrong, well then this fic is NOT FOR YOU! Flames will be laughed at, shown to my friends, and treated as prized possessions. The other warnings are: violence (possibly graphic but it depends on my mood ) and cursing (and I'm not talking about _crucio_…) … at least that's it for now…  
**Summary: **Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**Disclaimer: **Now pay attention because I'm only gonna say this once. I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Voldie would rule the world, Dumbles' only prestige would be his being Voldie personal scratching post, and Harry would be Voldie's willing sex slave… as it is none of that is part of cannon… and anyways if you did sue me, the most you could get would be 20 bucks and maybe my Sesshoumaru plushie…

**A/N:** I've wanted to write a Harry Potter fic for a long time now but I haven't ever had the inspiration… and without inspiration anything I would have written would have been disgustingly unoriginal… Lucky me, I got attacked by a rabid plot bunny and now it won't let me sleep! Hehe anyways… I hope you enjoy my ficcie! Please review… I have no self-esteem…

OoToO

Voldemort was irritated.

He was beyond irritated.

The Dark Lord sat pensively in the Grand Audience Hall. Death Eaters were milling around discussing projects and socializing, but the gathering had a rather strained quality to it. The assembled were all on edge and many felt as they did when they had failed to perform their duties. Their Lord's displeasure brought a thick bitterness to the air.

Voldemort continued to brood as his followers scurried around, obviously wary of his foul mood. Had his irritation been less pressing, he probably would have found great amusement in the reactions of his Death Eaters. Most of them were likely thinking of every failure of the past month and praying that they had not been the one to arouse their Lord's ire. But to those of his Inner Circle, the cause of his irritation was very clear.

For weeks Voldemort had been kept up at night by that bloody Potter boy. It wasn't that the boy was happy, no far from it. That was the worst part. The boy was bloody miserable and it had been disrupting Voldemort's rest. He should have been overjoyed to know that his bitter foe was hopelessly miserable, but he wasn't.

Voldemort scratched angrily at his arm. It was damned- well it was- irritating!

Bloody living hell! He was so distressed that he was sputtering in his own thoughts! He had to find some way to end his torture but despite his discomfort, he was filled with indecision. Of course he could just go and kill the boy… but he had failed enough times in the past that he was reluctant to make another attempt. His ego was still too sore. He could always go and kill the rest of the boy's family, as they seemed to be causing most of Potter's problems. But no, that probably wouldn't work either. He speculated that the boy would most likely continue to angst about where he would live and given Potter's hero-complex he'd probably mourn his abusive relatives.

The Dark Lord's brooding was interrupted as one of his Death Eaters approached. Voldemort immediately identified him as Severus. The man always reeked of potions and Voldemort's sensitive nose could always smell the Potions Master from miles away.

"My Lord?" The man asked tentatively, concern coloring his words.

It was then that Voldemort realized that he had continued to scratch at his arm until this moment. He cursed as he began to rub the abused arm soothingly. The angry red marks stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. Several months ago he had had Severus brew a potion to give him back his youthful beauty. The only remnants of his resurrection were his scarlet eyes. Though he had at first thought that his years of being a spirit had killed it, his vanity had not allowed him to stay in the decrepit body that his resurrection had given him. He remembered the night that he had conducted his first meeting after he was restored very clearly. Every appreciative look had been like salve for his wounded ego.

Voldemort turned his attention back to Severus and smirked slightly, seeing the man fidget under his gaze. He watched the man's discomfort in amusement. It never ceased to amuse him that just his attention could cause this normally stoic man to become so uncomfortable. He randomly thought of how satisfying it would be to have Potter there in Severus' place, squirming under his scrutiny… he started in surprise… that was it! A plan began forming in his head.

"Severus," he purred, "Would Lucius happen to be here?" Severus nodded anxiously. There were a few anxious whispers and then Lucius rushed over in a strangely dignified way.

"Here my Lord" he whispered kneeling gracefully.

Voldemort allowed both men to stew for a few moments, thoroughly enjoying their obvious anxiety. After a few minutes he felt that his dramatic peak had been reached and spoke.

"I have a project for you two."

The Dark Lord grinned maliciously.

OoToO

**A/N: **Yay! I finally finished the first chappie! Well I hope that it turned out all right… I'd feel better if I had a Beta… but oh well! Anyways please tell me what you think! I'd love some feedback and criticism would be great. Do you guys think I should continue this?


	2. The Pain of a 'Savior'

**Title:** Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually)  
**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my future pairing and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… The biggest warning for this chappie is the violence (also known as abuse) both verbal and physical.  
**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**A/N: **Wow! I never expected to get so many reviews! I hardly know what to do with myself! Thank you guys so much!

_This chappie is dedicated to CSI Gray because she helped me massively with getting this fic up and running. I love you my Sami! Without your feedback and patience for my total lack of self-esteem, this ficcie never would have gotten posted!_

OoToO

Harry sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow. Being forced to pull weeds from his Aunt's flowerbed in the middle of July was not on his list of favorite things to do. But then, neither was being exposed to the sight of his cousin frolicking in the sprinkler. Despite his disgust, Harry took some amusement in that, even with the high priority that the Dursleys placed on appearances, they were completely oblivious to how obscene it was to allow Dudley waddle and flop around half-naked in the front yard.

Every once in a while Harry would notice someone in another house glancing out at his cousin's bouncing blubber. He snickered thinking about how this… incident would effect the neighbors' opinions of the Dursleys. It wasn't that he was vengeful, he just knew that the Dursleys didn't deserve anyone's good opinion, especially not the good opinions of their all-important neighbors. The thought that the nosey neighbors of Privet Drive would spend at least a month gossiping away their time discussing today's display just seemed to brightened his day.

Harry pulled up another weed feeling a twinge in his ribs. He really could not understand how Petunia expected him to do a good job on her flowerbed in the state he was in. His ribs still ached from the last time Vernon had thought that Harry had disrespected him and he sorely needed some water. He knew that if he asked for any water the only answer he would get would be that he needed to stop complaining over nothing and get back to work.

The Boy Who Lived or the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die as he was wont to refer to himself, had been hustled out of bed at seven this morning to cook his uncle breakfast. He had been lucky this morning and had been able to finish cooking without any mishaps. Vernon had grudgingly allowed that the food was passable which caused Harry to sigh in relief. The man glared at Harry for his reaction but did nothing beyond that before going to work.

Harry had been working and doing chores around the house nonstop since then. Dudley had flaunted his inactivity until the heat had gotten to him, which had happened to coincide with Petunia telling Harry to go out and pull up weeds. Sometimes he wondered if Dudley's only goal in life was to make Harry's life even more hellish than it already was. Harry looked longingly at the sprinkler wishing he could take just one drink, but he dared not. If he did his aunt was sure to tell Vernon that he had come on to his cousin or some rubbish like that… He would definitely rather go thirsty for a while than to incur his uncle's wrath. It was almost noon anyways. Petunia would have to have him come in then so that it would at least seem like she was going to feed him lunch.

Just then as if by magic, Harry's rail of an aunt stepped out of the house carrying a towel for Dudley. He chuckled at the thought. The mere use the 'M' word would have gotten him a beating had he used it out loud. Petunia's attention focused on him and she wrinkled her nose as if she smelt something foul.

"What are you chuckling about boy? Lounging about as if there were nothing to do." She sneered. "Well get in the house boy! It's time for your lunch." She pitched the last to carry a bit farther.

Harry stood up quickly, ignoring his aches and pains, and scurried into the house so as not to provoke his aunt further. He could hear her call out to his cousin as he passed by. He stopped by the kitchen for a glass of water but then headed straight up to his room. Both he and his aunt knew that he wasn't to have any lunch. It was all an act for the neighbors. He usually only got dinner and even then it wasn't much. A couple of stale slices of bread and a glass of water were normally on the menu. The only break to this routine of one sparse meal a day was when someone who knew that he lived with the Dursleys came to dinner. Then he was allowed to eat as if he were a real member of the family.

Sometimes it bothered Harry that his family treated him the way they did. The thought that they were supposed to be the ones to care and take care of him was deeply depressing. It wasn't that he expected them to be nice, he had grown up with their neglect and their denial of his identity. Even if he'd had any such expectations, this summer would have devastated them. The Dursleys' neglect had turned to full-blown abuse after the Order members had threatened them at the beginning of the summer. The first thing Vernon had done the next morning was to lock Hedwig up and say that if Harry ever tried to say anything to the Order or any of his friends that he would shoot his 'bloody pigeon'. He enforced this by keeping the beautiful snowy owl locked up and reading through every letter that Harry sent out.

After the first beating, Harry had tried to subtly tell Hermione what was happening. He knew that she would be able to pick up on hints that Vernon would miss in his screening of Harry's letters. He waited anxiously for her reply so that he could know what to expect. When he finally did get her response, he was sorely disappointed.

"Oh Harry, You must be overreacting! It doesn't make any sense that you wouldn't be safe with your family. Professor Dumbledore is much wiser than us and we both know that he would never do anything that wasn't in your best interest…"

At that point he had dropped the letter in shock. He picked it up and read over that last part again. He tossed the letter down on his desk in frustration and immediately wrote to Ron.

Hermione had already talked to Ron and ever the hen-pecked boyfriend, he agreed with her completely.

Harry had felt slightly betrayed by his friends. Didn't they know him well enough to know when he was in trouble? He hadn't written to them or responded to their letters since.

The boy savior sat down on his bed and tried to think of something to do. He would have at least until five, when Vernon got home, to himself. He could write to Remus… but no, he didn't want to lie to the werewolf about how he was doing and he was feeling too hopeless to try and tell Remus about what was going on with the Dursleys. After a few moments of further thinking he decided that he would do some reading. Vernon had locked up his school things but the night before he had done so; Harry had had an inkling of what was to happen. He had hidden some books, parchment, ink, and a quill in various places around the room where his uncle would not find them. Harry removed one of his favorite spell books from its hiding place and started reading.

This went on for several hours until Harry noted the sound of a car door slamming. He looked at the time and saw that it was time for Vernon to be getting home. He went back to his reading, knowing he would be called if and when he was needed. Almost another forty-five minutes was spent that way until he heard the shout.

"BOY!"

Harry quickly hid his book and stood at attention in front of his door. He didn't stand too close, he had learned the hard way that his uncle liked to throw the door open and if he was standing too close when that happened then the door would catch him in the chin and knock him to the ground. He was soon glad that he had stood where he did, because Vernon knocked the door open rather violently.

The boy had very little time to react to this. His uncle backhanded him as soon as he was in the room. Harry then found himself on the floor. Vernon kicked him viciously in the side and started shouting, his face already purpling.

"DUDLEY TOLD ME HOW YOU WERE LOOKING AT HIM THIS MORNING, YOU FILTHY FREAK! HOW DARE YOU BEHAVE IN SUCH A DISGUSTING WAY IN FRONT OF THE NEIGHBORS!"

Harry knew that it was useless to argue, to say that there was no way he would _ever _look at his cousin the way that Vernon was implying and that the mere idea turned his stomach. He simply tried to shield himself from another kick to the side. Harry prayed that tonight Vernon's rage wouldn't last for long and that he would tire of 'punishing' Harry for his 'abnormality'. He really had no idea what gave the Dursleys the idea that he was gay, although he suspected that it was his slight build and pretty features. It was ironic that his delicate build was one of the possible causes of their belief. When he had mentioned his stature to Hermione previously in the year she had said that she believed it to be due to malnutrition.

Whenever Dudley would say something about Harry's sexual preference it always made Harry extremely nervous. But he was immensely glad that his cousin had never acted on his belief beyond occasionally telling his parents imagined stories about things Harry had done or said to him.

Vernon picked Harry up by his shirt and lifted him off the ground.

"Listen here boy! You are _nothing _but a sick freak! I will not have you ruining our good name with you behavior!" the man growled in his face. He punched Harry in the gut and dropped him to the floor.

Harry laid where he was until he heard his uncle start thumping down the stairs. The boy dragged himself over to his bed and made to get up on it. Pain shot through him and he crumpled back to the floor. He immediately gave up on trying to get onto the bed and curled up next to it. He knew that he most likely had several broken ribs and resolved to sleep and let his internal magic work on the breaks. As he began to drift off and his exhaustion began to win over pain, he briefly wondered why everything horrible always seemed to happen to him and his last tiny bit of faith in Dumbledore faded with his consciousness.

OoToO

**A/N:** wow, I got this done way before I planned to! Hehe… I promised myself that I wouldn't write today… I guess that's what happens when you don't expect to get any reviews for several days and then get a _ton _in the first day… Don't expect me to update this often, it'll probably be two times a week at best, well unless you guys blow me away with reviews that is… Reviews have great power over me! anyways… If you reviewed and didn't get mentioned it's because you prolly reviewed during the time between when I updated and when the story posted on the site. Don't worry if that happened! I'll make sure that I mention you next chapter… I think that's it for now… until next time! **_blows kiss_** I love you guys!


	3. Musings of a Potions Master

**Title: **Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif

**Beta:** Keket Amara Melek (because I actually did have one for this chappie!)  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild one-sided Severus/Lucius  
**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… As far as I can tell this chappie is pretty mild. After all Sev and Luc are professionals. Just some brief mild slashy feelings and mentions of abuse.  
**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**A/N:** Well this chappie was prolly one of the hardest things I've ever had to write! Writing Severus is hard! He's just developed enough that you have to worry about him being OOC and not developed just enough so that it takes a lot of work to figure out what's going on in his head! Tell me how you think I did!

Thank you everyone who reviewed, it always makes me really happy!

Oh! And just so you guys know, Sev and Luc are observing Harry on the same day as the last chappie, so part of it is sort of a retelling of that day from Sev's POV.

OoToO

Severus settled into a more comfortable position and tried to suppress his annoyance. He and Lucius had stationed themselves in a muggle 'car' just across the street from Potter's home so they could observe the goings on and pinpoint the best time of day to snatch the boy. They would then have to assess the wards on the house before they could proceed.

He tried to keep his mind clear as they watched and waited for the residents of the house to wake up but soon found his thoughts returning to the object of his annoyance.

Potter's arrogance and self-absorption never ceased to amaze him. For his levels of 'suffering' to have reached the point they had, where they had begun to effect the Dark Lord's sleep and concentration, was ridiculous. As if the boy really had anything to complain about. Being the '_Savior'_ of the wizarding world, the Potions Master was sure that Potter had every comfort he could ever wish for. He had to admit, the boy _had_ recently lost his Godfather, but that was no excuse for his excessive angst. He had barely even known the mutt for two years.

His disgust aside, Severus was actually rather glad for this task for one reason.

Lucius.

It was very rare for his Lord to assign his two most power Death Eaters to a single mission, so Severus welcomed the chance to spend time with the blond man.

The two of them had never really interacted during their time at Hogwarts; Lucius had dated nonstop, leaving many broken hearts in his wake, whereas Severus had always been more studious. It was merely by chance that Severus had ended up befriending Lucius. They had been paired together during their Death Eater training and had been good friends since. The Potions Master had also begun to have feelings for the blond at that point in time and Lucius had been his beacon in the dark from then on.

His musings were interrupted as Lucius nudged him. He turned his attention back to the house and realized that there was activity. Their window was cracked open so that they could here anything that there was to hear and when he listened carefully he could hear faint shouting. He quickly cast a sense sharpening charm on both of them.

"-UP YOU LAZY BOY! COME COOK YOUR UNCLE'S BREAKFAST! WITH ALL THE TIME YOU'VE WASTED THIS MORNING HE'S PROBABLY GOING TO BE LATE!"

He heard a door slam and then shortly after a figure appeared in the window to throw open the curtains. Severus soon recognized it as Harry Potter. He was shocked to see that even from the distance, the boy looked awful. He could see a rather large bruise on Potter's face and the boy was wearing a shirt that looked as if it were about to fall off him. Then just as quickly as he had appeared in the window, he was gone.

And the rest of the day was full of shock, pain and shame.

All of his previous beliefs concerning Harry's life were shattered. The boy was not sheltered or coddled or even in the slightest bit pampered. Severus watched as the Griffindor that he had scorned for years was forced to work himself to exhaustion while his relatives sat and sneered over how terribly the boy was doing everything. Every insult and veiled threat sent him back, remembering his childhood and all the terrible pain.

Guilt tore at him. How could he have not seen this? And how could he have allowed himself to be blinded by his childish vendetta? How could he have added to this boy's pain?

He sighed in relief when, at noon, Harry was allowed to retreat to the safety of his room. He was a bit concerned that Harry still hadn't been allowed anything to eat yet but at least the boy could rest.

Severus could feel Lucius begin to relax just he did and they continued to watch the house.

It wasn't for several hours that anything happened and then it was only the man, Harry's uncle if Severus remembered correctly, arriving home from work. Lucius noted the time and then they continued waiting. They only had a little while to wait. Suddenly they heard a shout from the house and Severus wouldn't even have needed a charm to hear what was said.

"BOY!"

Both men jumped and were instantly at attention. When they listened closely they could hear thumping that they had earlier identified as one of Harry's male relatives advancing up the stairs. They waited tensely and then heard a sharp cry of pain and surprise.

"DUDLEY TOLD ME HOW YOU WERE LOOKING AT HIM THIS MORNING, YOU FILTHY FREAK! HOW DARE YOU BEHAVE IN SUCH A DISGUSTING WAY IN FRONT OF THE NEIGHBORS!"

The Potions Master looked at Lucius in shock and saw that his companion was equally wide-eyed with disbelief. The boy had done nothing to his cousin to warrant _any _retaliation, much less the wrath of his uncle.

The entire situation was simply heinous.

The two Death Eaters listened in horror to the sounds of the Savior of the wizarding world being beaten by his muggle uncle. Severus itched to run in and stop the beating. Every cry felt like it tore into his very soul. The only thing that stopped him from cursing the foul muggle was that he knew that they couldn't afford to set off the wards. If they did that, then the entire mission would fail and that fool Dumbledore would probably leave the boy right where he was.

Severus cursed himself for not thinking to examine the wards earlier.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was silence. Blessed silence. Then to their relief they heard the man thump down the stairs. Severus stayed silent as Lucius closed his eyes. One of the things that made the blond so powerful was his ability to extend his magical senses to assess a person's weaknesses and strengths as well as their overall health. Lucius would have made a brilliant healer had he not chosen the side of the dark, but as things were, it made the man a very valuable addition to any mission.

While Lucius made sure that Harry didn't need immediate help, Severus took the opportunity to just look at Lucius. He knew that it wasn't the best time to be admiring the man but it was so rare to be able to just _look _at the blond. Normally if he were to look at the man with any sort of feeling, Lucius would sneer and tell him to go 'play with his _potions_'. So despite the circumstances he seized the chance like a thirsting man grasping at water.

Abruptly Lucius' eyes blinked open and he looked shocked.

"Severus," The man said in awe, "I haven't seen someone's magic work like this since our Lord's recovery…"

The Potions Master blinked in confused amazement. Their Lord's recovery since his resurrection had been amazing. Had he more patience and less vanity, his body would have eventually achieved the same health and attractiveness that the potion Severus brewed had brought the Dark Lord. For Harry to be healing at that rate was practically incomprehensible.

After a few moments of utter dumbfounded speechlessness the pragmatism that had originally caused Severus to lean towards the dark side of things came back in full force.

"Well then, that would mean that he doesn't need immediate attention. We should decide when and how we will take the boy." Severus stated with as much detachment as he could muster.

Lucius shook himself slightly to clear his head. He was always a little disoriented after delving so deeply into someone's magic Severus thought fondly.

"The best time would be right after the man leaves for work at eight. Then we won't have to worry about him. It would be best to use as little magic as possible in this abduction." The blond man said once he had his composure.

Severus nodded his agreement, "I don't think we'll have to worry about too much fight from the boy. Even with our past mistrust for each other, I believe that he will take any chance to be away from his relatives."

Lucius looked thoughtful, "Well, before we can decide _how _we'll take him, we need to determine the extent of the warding on the house."

Severus agreed and they began to read the wards.

The Potions Master was instantly amazed at the simplicity of the wards. Did Dumbledore think the Dark to be so unskilled and disorganized? Anyone who was skilled at ward reading would have been able to find the weaknesses in the wards in moments. Severus sneered. Dumbledore was truly a naïve fool. He probably was relying on the power of the blood protection. Too bad that the old man was _too_ _much _of a fool to see how little power it truly had.

The few wards that were in place were disgustingly easy to bypass as things stood. The only protections were that no magic could be performed on the premises without Dumbledore being alerted immediately and that no one could remove Harry from the house if they wished to directly harm him. There weren't even any protections for Harry's relatives. Had they been the good people that the Headmaster was convinced they were at heart, they would have been completely defenseless.

Severus and Lucius broke their contact with the wards almost simultaneously. Their disdain clear.

"We can just walk up and ring the bell in the morning and then just take the boy when he answers." Lucius said with a sneer.

"If we do it soon enough after the fat muggle leaves, we could do just that." Severus responded ignoring Lucius' sarcasm

Lucius looked shocked for a moment then nodded slowly, "We really could." He said in wonder. "That horse of a woman is lazy enough that she'd probably have the boy answer the door!"

Severus nodded his agreement and they both settled down to rest for a few hours now that they had a plan.

When the morning came they waited until the fat muggle left for work and then they went to the door and ran the bell. They waited for a bit and soon they heard the shrill voice of the woman shouting at Harry to get the door.

The boy opened the door with a bored look on his face. When he saw whom it was his eyes widened briefly in horror and he looked as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. But then, as if after a little thought, his whole frame sagged. Severus took him by the hand and led him down the lawn.

The Savior of the wizarding world didn't even put up a fight.

OoToO

**A/N:** Whew! I'm so glad that this chappie's finished! It was painful and I thought I'd never finish but I did! Yay! I feel so special! Hehe anyways! Remember to review and tell me what you thought! Was dear Snapey too OOC? Were his feelings for Lucius believable? Was it too fluffy or cliché? Tell me please!


	4. A Dark Lord's Perception

**Title: **Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild one-sided Severus/Lucius  
**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… just a mild description of someone under the influence of _crucio_ and some references to masochism in this chappie  
**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**A/N: **Sorry for the super long wait! My mum was decided that she hates me writing so she's made it really hard for me to write over the last couple days. She's been trying to teach me the joys of gardening but secretly she's been teaching me the 'joys' of foot pain, back pain, and blisters… Sorry for anyone who likes gardening and yard work, but it's just not for me… but anyways my mum has had me working for insane amounts of time in the yard, and apparently yard work kills my creativity! I believe that I'm not gonna be able to update much on weekends, seeing as my mum doesn't think that I need the weekend to rest from working all week… So yeah… that was my little mini rant… To everyone who reviewed, Thank you! I don't think that I would have been able to keep writing without you guys!

Oh! Just real quick, you guys should read _Pain is Art_ by SolitaryPoison! It's absolutely loverly! I had to say something after the loverly author reviewed this ficcie and then updated hers!

OoToO

The Dark Lord shifted slightly and tried not to roll his eyes.

His Death Eaters were giving their reports today and it was all very tedious. The man currently giving his report was probably the worst so far. Despite his low rank, he spoke with the arrogance of someone of great importance. The man truly had no sense. Voldemort itched to punish him somehow. Much to his further annoyance, if the man's report was to be believed, his assignment had been highly successful.

The random Death Eater droned on and Voldemort found himself wondering how the man could continue to speak and not run out of things to say. The man's self importance sickened the Dark Lord. He didn't even know the man's name! Voldemort listened to the man babble for a few more minutes and suddenly had a realization.

He didn't need a reason to curse the man beyond that he was annoying, he was the Dark Lord! The man's droning must have hampered his thought processes. Voldemort grinned sadistically and the sight gave the Death Eater pause. The Dark Lord raised his hand from its resting position.

"_Crucio_"

Instantly the man was on the floor writhing and screaming. As he convulsed all those in attendance fidgeted and looked rather worried for their own safety. Days like these were the worst for the lowest ranking of the Dark Lord's followers. Most of the more intelligent men and women had made sure to be among the first to give their reports. They had limited their speech as much as possible making it quick and precise. Those who waited too long to give their reports or who were too long winded often ended up like the poor soul currently on the floor.

Meetings had a tendency to make Voldemort rather irritable. He preferred to be messing with someone's mind, plotting, or basking in the appreciative glances that his attractive form brought him.

When the Dark Lord felt that the man had suffered enough for being annoying, he broke the curse with a casual wave of his hand. Voldemort dismissed the Death Eater and smirked as he dragged himself from the room.

Voldemort called for the next report wondering who would brave his wrath.

To his disgust, it was Wormtail that approached him.

The rodent-like man quickly began to relate his various exploits and triumphs. Voldemort had to search his memory to remind himself of what he had set Wormtail to do. After a bit of thought, he remembered vaguely that he had sent the man off to 'spy' on some muggles. Any other Death Eater would have been mortified to be given such an obviously useless task. But not Wormtail. He blathered on about how much he had accomplished as if he had been asked to infiltrate some important group. Voldemort was as much confused as he was annoyed.

Wormtail couldn't truly be this foolish, he had shown himself to be much shrewder than this in the past. To be acting this way so soon after that last fool was practically like asking to be cursed….

The Dark Lord blinked and had to hold back a sneer of disgust. What if he did want to be cursed? He had heard of traitors like the rat developing a need and a liking for punishment. Well Salazar forbid that he give the vermin what he wanted. Voldemort's distaste must have shown through because the former Marauder had stopped speaking. The short pudgy man fidgeted in the silence.

After a moment's thought for a way of punishing the Death Eater, Voldemort had an idea. His face twisted into an expression of cruel amusement.

"Zabini. Nott." The two Death Eaters were at instant attention. "Take Wormtail down to the dungeons. There is a small cell that is spelled against animagus transformation. Put him there. I'll deal with him when I have more time."

The two men obeyed quickly. There was never any guarantee of their safety when their Lord was in such a volatile mood. The rat wailed and begged as he was dragged out the side door towards the dungeons. When the sniveling creature was gone, Voldemort sighed happily. That Wormtail was sometimes just too much of an annoyance.

He was about to call for another report when the main doors slammed open. All the assembled Death Eaters jumped at the unexpected noise collectively and then turned to see who had caused the commotion.

Voldemort instantly knew who it was. With his slightly elevated position, he was able to see over the crowd with ease, but in this case he would have been able to tell even without his view of the doors. The Dark Lord had practically been able to taste the powerful aura that had filled the chamber when the doors had opened.

There were startled gasps as Voldemort's followers gaped at the doorway.

For in the doorway was Harry Potter flanked by Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape.

Almost unconsciously, the men and women in the room stepped back clearing a path to their Lord. Lucius started towards Voldemort and Severus followed after leading Potter by the hand as one would a child. Voldemort was surprised by the way that the boy carried himself. He appeared slumped and not the least bit defiant. The Dark Lord had expected Potter to be bound and struggling or maybe even unconscious, but not willingly trudging to what could be his doom. This picture of a defeated child did not match the powerful aura that accompanied this boy.

When the three came to a stop just in front of Voldemort, he was once again surprised. The slump that he had taken for defeat was truly due to exhaustion and bad health. His sensitive nose smelled half healed injuries and the beginnings of malnutrition. As he continued to examine the boy he noted the way that his clothing hung off his body, obviously sized for someone practically the size of a small whale.

Voldemort began to feel a strange sort of anger start to grow inside him. He had known that Potter had not had the best of home-lives, but truly he had had no idea. In his anger he was puzzled. This was not a rage he had felt before. He all but ached to make this boy's foolish muggle relatives pay. He had felt something similar for his own father, but he had never felt it on the behalf of someone else. Voldemort shook himself lightly. He could not feel this way. Certainly not on this boy's behalf. Potter was his enemy. His enemy! He squashed down his rage, it would not do him any good.

It was then, sensing the Dark Lord's scrutiny, that the boy finally looked up from the floor and into Voldemort's eyes. He did not look away as one of Voldemort's followers would have, but held his gaze steadily. It was there, in those emerald depths that Voldemort saw the strength of Potter's aura echoed. They seethed with power, bravery, and strangely, resignation.

The Dark Lord gazed into Potter's eyes, mesmerized by the barely controlled energy they held. It was then that he truly felt how blindly foolish the boy's relatives had been to alienate such a power. After a few more moments of soaking in the boy's gaze, he reluctantly broke the contact and turned to Lucius.

"Report."

OoToO

**A/N:** Well that's chapter 4! I hope it was worth the wait! Again, I'm really sorry that this was so long in coming… I hope that no one's lost interest… but anyways! Tell me what you guys thought! Tell me if my Voldie was still lovable and in character! What did you think of Harry in this chappie? Gah… my review responses are getting long! Does this bother anyone? Should I move them to the end of the chappie, leave 'em as they are or what?


	5. The Perception of a 'Savior'

**Title: **Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild one-sided Severus/Lucius  
**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights…

**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**A/N: **Allo my dears! Since I made you all wait so long for chappie 4, I decided to do a double update. Enjoy it because it's not gonna happen too often… I hope you guys like this chappie! Sorry if there are any mistakes… I can't find my book and it's too late to talk to my beta…

OoToO

Death Eaters were a paranoid bunch.

Harry supposed that it was their training. Most of the day had been spent with Severus and Lucius apparating him from place. He couldn't tell if it was done to keep him from knowing where he was or to keep someone from following them. Which ever it was, he mused, it didn't really matter, he was hopelessly lost and surely no one who had been following them could have kept track of the three wizards.

The boy supposed that he was probably going to his death, but he could not rouse any outrage or sadness no matter how hard he tried. All he felt was a deep weariness. Truly anything was better than the way things had been, deserted and betrayed by his 'friends', beaten and starved by his 'family'. Something Dumbledore had said once about death and an ordered mind, sprang to mind but was quickly squashed.

Dumbledore's betrayal had truly been the worst. Harry had trusted no one as he had that old man. He knew that surely the Headmaster of Hogwarts had known of his abuse, the man had addressed his first Hogwarts letter to the cupboard under the stairs… Anyone who wasn't a fool would surely have seen those living arrangements as indications of abuse. And yet Dumbledore had sent him back to the Dursley's year after year… Even if the knowledge of the abuse had been the man's only betrayal, Harry would never have forgiven him.

Harry wondered briefly if this was how Voldemort had felt about Dumbledore when he was younger.

He was jarred from his thoughts when Severus squeezed his hand for his attention and stated stoically that they had arrived.

The boy was surprised that he didn't recognize the manor that rose before them. He had expected Voldemort's base of operations to be Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. But really, when he thought about it, it made more sense for the Dark Lord to have a base that wasn't as easy to find as Riddle Manor.

The three wizards tromped across the grounds and into the manor. To Harry's further surprise, he was not seized by a terrible fear as he had anticipated upon his entry into the building. He had thought that his impending death would have been a more terrible thing once he had arrived at Voldemort's lair and he supposed it would have definitely been worse had it been Riddle Manor, but it was not. As it was, he looked around with slight interest at the design of the place.

Harry trudged along behind Lucius, holding Severus' hand. He had not let go of the man's hand since he had left the house and he was grateful that Severus had not made to let go either. Despite his strange lack of alarm, Harry was glad for the comforting gesture. He wasn't quite sure what all had led to the Potions Master to his change of opinion where Harry was concerned, but he speculated that the two Death Eaters had watched the house for a while and that Harry's situation had reached the man.

It was strange but he was sure now that Severus was just as loyal a Death Eater as Lucius or even Bellatrix, and yet he didn't think any less of him. Maybe being rescued had cancelled out the feeling of betrayal that should have occurred. But no, cancelled out wasn't quite right… Harry found that he was beginning to like Severus and appreciate the comfort he offered.

Harry's time to think on the confusion of his feelings was cut off when they all came to a stop in front of two large, ornate doors. Before the boy could fully react to this, Lucius flung open the doors.

The room was full of Death Eaters and at the other end of the room, seated on a raised area, was Voldemort.

The Dark Lord's appearance was… surprising… He now looked more like the Tom Riddle Harry had fought in his second year. His appearance was that of an attractive twenty-five year old. His hair was dark and thick and his skin was pale, but not as starkly white as it had been the last time Harry had seen him. Even with his voluminous robes and the way he seemed sprawled in his chair, his build was clear. He was slim, but probably well muscled.

Harry hung his head so that his blush would be missed and felt those bloody, crimson eyes boring into the top of his head.

He felt Severus tug on his arm and so he moved forward. The boy shuffled along towards his fiercest enemy and what was most certainly going to be a rather painful death, feeling only a mild, morbid curiosity, but mostly he just felt numb. It felt like an eternity before they finally came to a stop. He kept his head down waiting for whatever pain there would be. Severus kept a loose hold on his hand and he was grateful for that.

The boy stood there like that, feeling that powerful gaze on the top of his head and wondered what Voldemort was playing at. After several minutes of that, Harry could take it no more. He glanced up at Voldemort in what was meant to be a quick glance, but when their eyes met he couldn't look away.

He felt that he could be lost in those deep ruby eyes. The held such power and knowledge. He was mesmerized by their depth and darkness. Harry felt that he should just give in, throw himself on the Dark Lord's mercy and he would be safe. Had he been less enthralled he would have laughed outright at the idea of giving in or that Voldemort even had mercy. The boy lost himself in the dark gaze and a millennia could have passed before Voldemort had broken the contact, for all Harry knew.

Voldemort and Lucius began conversing, most likely about the current situation and why he looked as he did. Harry looked down at the ground again in confusion. What had just happened?

Harry tried to puzzle out his even more tangled emotions in vain until he was interrupted by Severus' speaking.

"My Lord, I must ask you not to harm this boy… I don't believe that he will be much of a danger to us as he is…"

The boy in question looked up quickly in shock. Why would Severus risk his life for him like that? Surely speaking to Voldemort that way could only lead to death. Harry looked up at Voldemort, this time with fear. He couldn't let Severus die for him!

To his great shock, Voldemort smirked.

"You need not worry that I will kill the boy, as I am sure that is what you are referring to. He clearly has no fear of that. Where would the satisfaction be in killing him when he is so ready for death?" The Dark Lord purred in a tone that spoke of his disdain of the man's request.

Harry shivered and he assured himself that it had been caused by the cold cruelty, which was a tangible force in the air.

Voldemort smiled sweetly, but the expression was betrayed by the dark glee in his eyes which was obviously in response to Harry's reaction.

"So my dear Severus, what you recommend be done to start Mister Potter's recovery?" He said with a feigned sweetness so sweet, that it burned like acid.

Harry noted that Severus looked visibly shaken. _So this must be a tact that the Dark Lord did not use often._ The boy thought absently. The Potions Master responded quickly, obviously not wishing to press his luck any further.

"I would suggest rest my Lord" he said nervously

Voldemort smirked, seemingly amused by Severus' discomfort. Moments later a cowering female House elf appeared with a crack next to the Dark Lord. He addressed her softly.

"Take this boy to get some rest. When he wakes attend to his needs."

The elf nodded and bowed a little curtsy. She then grabbed Harry by the hand and dragged him from the room. He was nervous leaving Severus behind but he was sure the man would take care of himself.

As the elf dragged him through a seemingly random maze of hallways, he realized that he didn't know the little elf's name. If she was to take care of him, he might as well learn that much. Harry guessed that she was probably very flighty, and so he addressed her softly as Voldemort had.

"Hey my name is Harry, can you tell me yours?"

She stopped short and gazed at him in surprise. She spoke cautiously and quietly in answer.

"Shimi is what I is being called, sir." She then began dragging him down the hall and Harry knew that he would not get anymore out of her.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Harry was amazed. He had expected a room not much better than a dungeon cell, but he now found himself in a lovely suite with several rooms. There was a small library, a sitting room, a bedroom, and an extremely large bathroom.

Harry itched to use the enormous bath but his fatigue and Shimi's urgings finally overwhelmed him and he climbed into the huge bed.

When he awoke, Shimi was there waiting for him with what seemed to be a feast to his eyes. He tucked in with enthusiasm but was careful not to eat too much. He knew better than to feast when he was starving. Harry had Shimi draw him a bath and he gratefully took his time. He had never been able to take baths so soothing at the Dursley's and he cherished the time.

After his bath he checked out the library. He gathered up several books and began reading through them. Harry read until his back started cramping from being hunched over for hours and he could hardly read five words without a jaw-cracking yawn.

He finally gave in to his body and put the books back where he had gotten them. He then stretched, arching his back and rubbing the angry muscles. He proceeded to exit the library and walk to the bedroom. Upon his arrival he realized that he was not the only one to enter the room.

Voldemort had entered from the direction of the bathroom.

Shirtless.

Harry hardly knew whether to be embarrassed, outraged, or fearful. It ended up as a mixture of outrage and embarrassment.

"W-what are you doing here!" Harry was proud that his voice only shook a bit.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"This is my room, why wouldn't I be here?" he said in bemusement.

Harry paled slightly, momentarily speechless and trying to look anywhere but the Dark Lord's naked torso.

After a moment, he shouted out, "Well _I'm_ not sleeping on the floor!"

Voldemort looked completely unruffled, "It's _my_ bed if you have a problem then _you_ sleep on the floor."

Harry gaped like a suffocating fish and Voldemort snickered. The boy glared at the Dark Lord and huffed.

"Fine!" The boy who lived sent one more glare in Voldemort's direction before flopping down on the bed and throwing himself under the covers.

The Dark Lord smirked and slipped into the bed. They both lay as far away from the other as possible without falling off the bed. Harry's embarrassment fell on him in full force and he had to turn away quickly so Voldemort wouldn't see his blush.

Just as Harry was thinking that it would be impossible to fall asleep, he drifted off.

OoToO

A/N: Well there you go! Chapter 5! I hope that Harry wasn't too OOC, this was a really weird situation to write him in… well anyways… hope you enjoyed it! **_blows a kiss_**


	6. Duties of a Deatheater Blond

**Title: **Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif

**Beta:** Celena Amunet (also known as Keket Amara Melek with an account…)  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild one-sided Severus/Lucius  
**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… mild detailings of torture and abduction in this one… and that's all I can think of…  
**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**A/N: _dies _**So sorry that it's taken so long to get this out… me and this chappie haven't been very happy with each other… And of course my mum hasn't been making it easier… but yeah! Hope that this chappie doesn't disappoint you! Thanks to all of you for reviewing and being so patient!

**_This chappie is dedicated to michikaru-san for saving me from plot hole induced death!_**

OoToO

Fear ripped through Lucius and gripped his heart as he looked in shock at his dear, foolish friend. He was careful to keep his expression blank and his feelings concealed, knowing that any objection he were to show would make things worse for Severus as well as himself.

He heard the door slam closed behind Harry and the House elf and had to make an effort not to jump at the noise. There was near silence in the chamber, no one dared speak. All present knew that even for one so favored as the Potions Master, there would be no escaping punishment. Lucius could see Severus' terror in his frame and hear it in his ragged breaths.

Severus stood with his head slightly bowed, awaiting his fate.

"Oh, my dear Severus…" The Dark Lord trailed off in a way that indicated he had more to say.

Surprised by his Lord's soft tone, Severus looked up hopefully, but not daring to look at the Dark Lord's frowning face.

"_Crucio_"

Lucius' mouth went dry as his friend hit the floor.

Severus took it well; he didn't scream or writhe as some would. His service under the Dark Lord had equipped him with an unusually high pain tolerance. When the time where the curse was usually lifted came, the Dark Lord made no move to do anything. Lucius' panic rose.

Shortly thereafter, Severus began to scream and then thrash. The blond Death Eater stood helpless, only able to occasionally give his Lord pleading glances. Just as Lucius had begun to despair, believing that his beloved friend would lose his life, the Dark Lord broken the curse.

"Moon!" The Dark Lord barked out.

Instantly the female Death Eater was at attention.

"Heal him" The man said just as sharply.

Lucius' horror wrenched at his heart. For the Dark Lord to have Severus healed like this… It could only mean that the demonstration wasn't over.

As soon as the woman stepped back from the Severus' gasping form, their Lord threw another _crucio_ at him, confirming Lucius' thoughts. The Dark Lord watched the Potions Mater convulse with a sort of grim satisfaction that chilled Lucius' blood. Even if Severus did survive, he worried that his mind would not. When the Dark Lord's rage was this hot, he rarely worried about who he was torturing and it was not rare for his Lord to torture someone who had aroused his ire to death or insanity.

Severus screamed and cried and writhed, and Lucius longed to cry out with him. He ached to see his friend released from his torment. Lucius wondered how much more he could take before he stepped in as a distraction from Severus.

He was saved from such a rash action when his Lord abruptly ended the spell. His dear friend was left sobbing on the ground and Moon waited posed, ready to do her master's bidding.

Said master sat, slowly rubbing his temples. The assembled waited in anticipation of what would occur next. After several minutes the Dark Lord looked up and addressed Moon.

"Go ahead and heal him again." Then went back to his brooding.

Lucius stood motionless, his body taut with anxiety. Moon finished healing Severus and stepped back quickly. All waited impatiently to see what would be next.

The Potions master continued to lay crumpled on the floor, most likely still feeling the aftershocks of his torture. Lucius itched to run up to him and take him into his arms, to make sure he was all right. To his relief, Severus stood up shakily, seemingly ready for what awaited him next. After many long uncomfortable minutes, the Dark Lord returned his attention to the current situation. He waved a dismissal and the Potions Master limped out of the room. Lucius felt some of his tension ease.

"Lucius," the man's attention quickly snapped to his Lord, "Tell me of the wards set at Potter's home."

The blond, though surprised by the unexpected question, quickly ordered his thoughts, "They are minimal, my Lord. There are no protections for the boy's relatives."

The Dark Lord smiled evilly. "Well then, let's go hunt some muggles."

After discussing the wards that were in place further, the raiding party included Lucius, Crabbe, Goyle, and surprisingly the Dark Lord himself. Crabbe and Goyle were necessary as muscle to make up for the inability to use magic in the house without alerting Dumbledore and Lucius supposed that the Dark Lord was coming to work off his excess rage. A small party was chosen to further reduce the chances of detection. It would be suspicious looking enough with just the four of them.

They apparated to the house, just outside the wards and Lucius was glad that he and Severus had decided to leave the car they had used for their surveillance. When they were all securely in the car, they made sure that there had been no witnesses to their arrival. Shortly there after the Dark Lord turned his attention to Lucius.

"How many muggles can we expect there to be in the house?"

Lucius had noted earlier that the fat muggle had not arrived home yet and he responded quickly. "Just a woman and a large boy for now, my Lord. There is also a man but he will not be here until later in the evening."

His Lord smiled darkly. "Well should we go now and invite the woman and her boy to enjoy our hospitality?"

The man quickly stepped out of the car and Lucius hurried to follow directly behind. Crabbe and Goyle followed dumbly after them. When they reached the door the Dark Lord rapped sharply on the door and flashed Lucius a sickly sweet smile.

It was the whale-like boy that answered, looking sullen. When he took in their dress he blanched and then stuttered.

"W-what do you want?"

The Dark Lord smiled sweetly.

"Hello my dear boy, I need to have a word with your mother. Is she in?" His tone matched his expression and Lucius was amazed that none of the disgust he was surely feeling showed on his face or in his voice.

The small whale must have been disarmed by his Lord's charming façade. He seemed to lose some of his fear and he also seemed to remember to keep up appearances, asking them into the entryway. As they waited the Dark Lord smirked at Lucius and Lucius didn't need to be a Legilimens to tell that his Lord was deeply amused by the boy's stupidity.

The woman soon came into view, wiping her hands with a dishtowel. The boy peeked out from around the corner. She looked up and her features were quickly twisted with ill-concealed disgust.

"What do _you_ want? If it's about that Potter boy, he ran away this morning." She sniffed and then tapped her foot impatiently.

"My _dear_ Lady," The Dark Lord purred mockingly, "We wish you to come with us, to enjoy our hospitality." He grinned nastily and pulled out his wand.

While Crabbe and Goyle started slightly and looked nervous, Lucius had no worries that his Lord would use any magic. If he had decided to, he would not have bothered with his wand. The Dark Lord was fully able to cast most spells wandlessly. He was merely threatening the woman in a way she would understand.

And understand she did. She fainted straight away.

The boy rushed into the room, kneeling by his mother.

"Mummy! Mummy, what did they do to you!" He glared up at the Dark Lord and made as if to rush the man.

This was well within the comprehension of Crabbe and Goyle and they quickly grabbed the boy before he could get close to their master. When they had the boy securely in their grasp they looked to their Lord for instruction.

He spoke carefully so they wouldn't confuse anything, "Take the boy to the car. Once there, I want you to apparate with him to the base dungeons. Leave him in a cell and come back." These instructions caused the young muggle to start wailing.

The two men nodded and quickly left, dragging the struggling, crying whale-boy along with them. The Dark Lord then turned to Lucius.

"I want you to take the woman. I will wait in the car for you to return." He quickly left the house with a look of disgust.

Lucius looked down at the muggle woman, feeling equally disgusted.

Her face and neck were a bit too long and she was horribly thin, giving the impression of a sickly horse. The very idea of touching her made his skin crawl. After about a minute, Lucius shook his head and then quickly stopped studying her. He ignored his nausea, and picked her up. The blond knew that there was no way around it and that his Lord would not appreciate a delay.

As soon as he had walked beyond the wards, he quickly apparated to the base and dropped the muggle on the ground as soon as he arrived. He levitated her in front of him and headed to the dungeons. He quickly found the cell where the boy had been dropped and left the woman in with the blubbering creature. He walked briskly out onto the grounds and disapparated.

He quickly got into the car and was met with an extremely bored look from his master.

"How much longer until the other muggle arrives?" The Dark Lord asked pensively.

"It shouldn't be long, my Lord." Lucius was quick to answer. His Lord was notoriously impatient. He knew that if he was not careful, his master would not hesitate to find other means of entertainment.

Luckily for Lucius, they didn't have to wait much longer. The fat muggle pulled up in his car and Lucius looked to his Lord for instruction.

"Persuade him to come to the car, Lucius."

The blond nodded and quickly got out of the car. He approached the muggle with a brisk, business-like air. Despite the man's obvious alarm at Lucius' dress, he was clearly effected by the way that the blond carried himself.

"Good day sir. You have recently been nominated for the Best Kept Yard Award. There is an associate of mine who wishes to speak with you to confirm that you wish to participate in the competition."

Lucius had to hold back a wince. That was the best he could come up with on the spot? Surely the muggle would never believe that someone wearing wizarding robes would be confirming participation for some stupid competition that he hadn't ever even heard of!

But much to the blond's surprise, the man puffed out his chest in pride.

"I would like very much to talk with this associate of yours," the fat muggle said in a disgustingly gracious tone, "It's about time that someone recognized the work we put into our yard."

Not one to sneer at luck, Lucius held back his incredulous reaction.

"Right this way sir." The Death Eater led the muggle over to where his master waited.

The fat man waited in anticipation as the window rolled down slowly. When it was fully open he leaned forward expectantly and promptly crumpled to the ground.

The Dark Lord causally stepped out of the car and kicked the muggle sharply in the side with a look of angry satisfaction.

Lucius pretended not to notice.

Crabbe and Goyle quickly stumbled out and picked the man up from where he lay on the ground. The Dark Lord sneered at the two bulky Death Eaters.

"I don't want the muggle put in with his family. Put him in a cell where they can see him." They hastened to obey and apparated with a crack.

Lucius and his Lord apparated near simultaneously. Upon arrival, the Dark Lord quickly started up the rise towards the manor with Lucius close at his heels. Just as they were approaching the entrance, Lucius had to stop short as his Lord abruptly stopped and turned towards him as if he had had a thought.

"Tell my Death Eaters that they may do as they wish with our new prisoners, but that no one is to kill them. I will deal with them at my leisure." The Dark Lord said sharply.

He stormed through the entrance to the base and Lucius was careful to wait a few minutes before entering himself so as not to become a potential target for his Lord's obvious vexation.

Lucius idly walked down the hall, pondering the most efficient way to relay his Lord's instructions. He was soon given an answer, seeing McNair walking towards him. He repeated his Lord's words to the executioner and then wandered on, knowing that the sadistic man would have the word spread in no time.

He walked somewhat aimlessly for a while before deciding to go and check on Severus. Lucius knew that the Potions Master would not have left the base after the torture he had been subjected to, Severus never trusted himself to apparate after being punished by the Dark Lord.

His destination in mind, the blond Death Eater set off with a much more purposeful step, fully intending to spend most of the night caring for his dear friend.

OoToO

**A/N:** Whew! Finally done! Hope you guys liked the chappie! I love to hear what you guys think! Please review! Tell me if this chappie was worth the wait! I'll try and get the next chappie up a lot sooner this time… I love you guys!


	7. A Dark Lord's Rage

**Title:** Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif  
**Beta:** Celena Amunet  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild not-so-one-sided Severus/Lucius  
**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… there's a bit of torture and kidnapping … nothing much beyond that that I can think of…  
**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**Super Important A/N: **Just as a reminder: This fic starts out in the summer just before Harry's sixth year. Seeing as HBP is out now, WWtBtBBWWD is going to be taking a decided turn into AU. We are now heading into the land of what-ifs. Right now my priority is not to reconcile my characterizations with those in HBP, but to make sure that my characterizations stay consistent with the way I have been writing characters. If I were to attempt to make it all work with the new book, I would have to rewrite this fic entirely from scratch… I so do not wanna do that… So yeah, while there might be some plot points that will be influenced, I'm going to try and stick with as much of my original plan as possible.

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I'm sorry it's been so long of a wait.

OoToO

"_Crucio_"

Voldemort watched, outwardly impassive, as his Potions Master went from silently bearing the curse to thrashing and screaming.

Much as the Dark Lord enjoyed torture, he never really enjoyed torturing those in his Inner Circle. As his most trusted they were also the Death Eaters that knew him best. He thought it was rather silly that most assumed that as a Dark Lord he could care for no one. He had never had anyone to call family in the past and while it was a little sentimental, he now considered his Inner Circle to be his family.

But of course he would never tell them that. Voldemort much preferred having them on edge, always wondering if he was just going to randomly curse them.

Turning his thoughts back to Severus, he realized that the curse was beginning to cause real damage and broke it off. It pained him to have to do this to his dear Potions Master, but if he let anyone get away with disrespect, certain members of the Dark would take it as weakness and might think to cause him problems. Even with his considerable power, he would not risk being sabotaged by his own Death Eaters. Well at least not anymore than he normally had to deal with…

As Voldemort glared at Severus' shaking form he realized that this demonstration would need to continue. Never had one of his Death Eaters had the nerve to speak out against him as Severus had. The Dark Lord actually admired the man for having the conviction to stand up for Potter, even knowing that he could have been killed for siding with the boy. Voldemort held back a wince, knowing what he would have to do.

"Moon!" He shouted sharply with anger he didn't feel.

He was pleased to see that she jumped forward into view.

"Heal him"

She scurried forward towards Severus to do just that.

As Voldemort waited for the woman to finish he looked around glancing at his Death Eaters' expressions. He was amused to see that most of his lower ranking servants made no effort to hide how they were feeling. Some looked confused and many looked hungry to see more.

Those in his Inner Circle showed no sign of their feelings but he could still sense their anxiety. He was slightly surprised, noticing the stricken expression that colored Lucius' face. For him to be openly showing such emotion… It was interesting…

Voldemort's attention was quickly drawn back to Severus as Moon stepped back from the gasping man. The Dark Lord quickly cursed the man again. He hid his reluctance behind a mask of dark satisfaction, knowing that it would be more than enough to fool his followers.

Watching his Potions Master scream and cry and writhe like this was truly painful. He discreetly looked away, turning his gaze to Lucius without seeming to. Under these circumstances he couldn't even enjoy the blond Death Eater's discomfort.

The Dark Lord finally could watch no longer and abruptly broke the curse.

He slowly began to rub his temples. Already this day was too frustrating for his liking. It had been tolerable before the boy had come in, but after… Well having the boy show up looking as he did had just completely ruined the rest of his day. And to his further annoyance, he couldn't connect his rising anger with the child. Voldemort's thoughts kept returning to Potter's blasted muggle relatives. He wished them to suffer for what they had done to the boy and that in itself baffled him.

Severus' gasping intruded on his thoughts and the Dark Lord glanced at Moon.

"Go ahead and heal him again." Truly it was the least he could do for the man to have him healed. Even with the healing Severus would be next to useless until midday tomorrow.

Voldemort frowned slightly and tried to will away his developing headache. He could tell that if he didn't do something about his rage, that it would merely simmer beneath a mask of normal behavior until he went on a killing spree starting with everyone around him. While he enjoyed a good killing sprees, he couldn't just go and kill off his followers.

What he really needed was some course of action that would leave the boy's relatives at his disposal. Then at least they wouldn't be off living comfortably after all they had done to harm his little captive.

The Dark Lord's attention was drawn back to his Potions Master as the trembling man stood up off the floor with a look of determined readiness. Voldemort felt a flash of pride. Not letting his emotions show through, he casually dismissed the man.

Severus limped out of the room and Voldemort could see Lucius visibly relax. When he realized that the blond's attention was fixated on the limping man, he addressed Lucius sharply instantly regaining the man's attention.

"Tell me of the wards set at Potter's home."

Lucius looked at Voldemort, with a slightly confused expression. Then he seemed to pull himself together and answered quickly, "They are minimal, my Lord. There are no protections for the boy's relatives."

Voldemort smiled evilly. Dumbledore never ceased to amaze him. For being such a flaming muggle-lover he sure didn't watch over those in his immediate care. What a fool the man was to think that Potter's relatives would be safe from the Dark Lord's clutches…

Said Dark Lord turned his attention back to his Death Eaters. "Well then, let's go hunt some muggles."

A loud cheer filled the room and after a moment the Dark Lord waved for silence. He allowed a slight smirk to show on his face. His Death Eaters were certainly excitable today. Voldemort then looked pointedly at Lucius, knowing that the blond would know that he was asking for elaboration.

He was not disappointed when the blond Death Eater volunteered exactly the information that the Dark Lord wanted.

"The only protection in place is that Dumbledore will be alerted if any spells are cast on the premises, my Lord"

Voldemort blinked several times. Surely the old man knew how easy it would be to get past such an obstacle? Sometimes he couldn't believe Dumbledore's naivete.

"Crabbe! Goyle!" Voldemort shouted and the two lumbered into view. It was only because of raids like this that he tolerated such hulking idiots. Truly the only thing they were good for was physical support, and even then that was limited to certain situations. He glanced at the two idiotic Death Eaters.

"You two are coming with me to Potter's house. We're going to bring the muggles that live there back here. If you cast any spells, you will be punished… Understood?" He made sure to speak slowly and clearly so they wouldn't miss anything.

They nodded dumbly but seemed to comprehend so he turned to Lucius.

"Lucius, you are to come as well." At the blond's nod, he stood and stepped down from his seat. Voldemort then turned back to Crabbe and Goyle.

"I am going to apparate to Potter's home. When I'm gone I want you to apparate to me." The Dark Lord could barely hold down his exasperation on seeing their blank expressions. He quickly turned and stormed out of the room. If they were too stupid to follow him, he'd merely kill them later. It might be nice to be rid of their bumbling stupidity.

He reached the edge of the manor's wards with Lucius scurrying along behind him. The Dark Lord quickly apparated to Potter's home and much to his surprise and mild disappointment, all three of his Death Eaters appeared shortly after.

Lucius, ever efficient, quickly led them to a muggle car, parked just outside of the wards. Voldemort could feel his anticipation growing. Oh what he would do to those muggles! He kept himself relatively calm until they were all settled in and apparently safe, then he turned to Lucius.

"How many muggles can we expect there to be in the house?" He hoped that none of his impatience showed through.

If it did, the blond didn't react to it and he responded quickly, "Just a woman and a large boy for now, my Lord. There is also a man but he will not be here until later in the evening."

Voldemort smiled darkly. That made things a bit simpler. He turned his smile on Lucius, "Well, should we go now and invite the woman and her boy to enjoy our hospitality?"

The Dark Lord didn't give time for a response; he kicked the door open and swung out of the car, heading for the house. Well, it had felt like he had done that but he was sure that it had looked much more dignified than that.

He reached the door with Lucius a step behind and the two idiots not far behind the blond. He sent Lucius a sickly sweet smile knowing that it would unnerve the man.

Shortly after that, the door was opened by a _thing_ that was presumably the boy Lucius had mentioned. The creature was so grotesquely fat that it turned his stomach.

Filthy muggles.

It seemed that it was at least intelligent enough to see that they were dangerous.

The fat-thing took one look at them and stuttered out a weak, "W-what do you want?"

Voldemort smiled the same sickly sweet smile that he had thrown at Lucius.

"Hello my dear boy, I need to have a word with your mother. Is she in?" It took all his Slytherin skill, but he was able to match his tone to his expression. Oh Salazar, how that _thing_ made his skin crawl!

The foolish creature seemed to be become less fearful on hearing the Dark Lord's tone and quickly invited them in. It then lumbered into another room, presumably to get its mother. Deeply amused, Voldemort smirked at Lucius. He must have given the land-whale too much credit intelligence-wise if it had invited them in so readily.

The Dark Lord had to resist the urge to tap his foot in annoyance; his patience was all but nonexistent. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long. The woman came around the corner, wiping her hands with a small towel. The creature peeked out around that same corner. When the woman looked up her features became twisted with disgust and he wondered idly if she was even making an effort to hide her feelings.

"What do _you_ want? If it's about that Potter boy, he ran away this morning." She sneered and tapped her foot.

He felt his rage as it rose up in response to her disdain. How could she assume that the boy had run off? Had she no concept of the boy's enemies? He quickly squashed the inexplicable emotion. Why should he care what she thought of his little captive?

"My _dear_ Lady," Voldemort purred, putting all his anger and disdain into his sarcasm, "We wish you to come with us, to enjoy our hospitality." He grinned nastily, pulling out his wand. He knew that she would understand the threat for what it was.

He was not disappointed as she dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

The fat-thing flopped and jiggled its way to kneel gracelessly by its mother's side. It was probably the most running that the creature had had to suffer through in its entire life.

"Mummy! Mummy, what did they do to you!" Surprisingly enough the creature glared Darkly at the Dark Lord and made as if to rush the pale man.

Voldemort stood casually as Crabbe and Goyle intercepted the thing. Once the creature had stopped trying to grapple with them, they turned and looked at their master for instruction.

He spoke slowly and carefully, hoping that his luck with the two imbeciles wouldn't run out, "Take the boy to the car. Once there, I want you to apparate with him to the base dungeons. Leave him in a cell and come back." At the last part the stupid thing started blubbering and making even more of a mess out of its face.

The Dark Lord sneered after the wailing mass of fat as Crabbe and Goyle dragged it out of the house. Voldemort then turned to Lucius.

"I want you to take the woman. I will wait in the car for you to return." He stormed out of the house feeling extremely disgusted and sure that he looked it too. He was also sure that he sounded rather pensive, but wasn't sure that he cared.

He stalked to the car and threw himself in, knowing that there would be no one important to witness it. Voldemort was sure it would take Lucius several minutes just to pick up the emaciated horse-woman.

The Dark Lord leaned forward and rested with his elbow on the dashboard. He held his chin in his hand and tapped his finger against his cheek. Voldemort gazed out at the street beyond the windshield and sneered.

Muggles were such disgusting creatures.

Even after the screaming whale-thing had been dragged from its home, they had paid no attention. They were content to sit in their ugly little uniform homes and not wonder what had caused so much of a disruption.

No wonder Potter had so apparently lost his faith in the light. Being forced to live among such idiots would be enough to disillusion even the most fanatical.

Voldemort continued to ponder how frustrating the boy's life must have been for a while but then decided that it was too frustrating a line of thought. His mind wandered from subject to subject until he could think of nothing more to think about.

He really hated waiting.

That was truly the biggest reason why he rarely went on raids. He simply didn't have the patience for waiting. He didn't mind watching plans play out, but just sitting around and doing nothing… Well it made him cringe.

The Dark Lord held back a surprised reaction as the car door swung open and Lucius gracefully slid into the car. He must have been much more preoccupied with being bored than he had thought. Voldemort also noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were already in the back of the car. He pinned the blond with what felt like an extremely bored glare.

"How much longer until the other muggle arrives?" He was mildly annoyed at how pensive he sounded.

"It shouldn't be long, my Lord." The blond man was quick to respond and sounded rather anxious. Had Voldemort been feeling a little less annoyed he would have been highly amused by that anxiety, but the promise of more waiting, even if it didn't end up being much, killed any amusement he might have felt.

Just as the last of the Dark Lord's meager patience was threatening to leave entirely, a car pulled up into the driveway of Potter's former residence. The blond Death Eater glanced at him, silently asking for instruction.

"Persuade him to come to the car, Lucius."

Lucius nodded and quickly slid out of the car.

Voldemort glanced at the muggle to check the fat man's reaction and just in that glance he instantly saw that this filthy muggle was the relative who had harmed his little captive the worst.

A black rage welled up inside him and he had to clench his teeth against it. In his struggle not to hex the man dead on sight, he missed what words Lucius used to fool the filthy muggle. The Dark Lord watched the man approach with barely controlled wrath. It was all he could do to wait until his car window was open to fling a _stupefy _in the muggle's face.

The Dark Lord watched as the overly large muggle dropped to the ground with a satisfying thud.

He slipped out of the car with a casual air that he didn't feel and gave the man a sharp kick to the side, hoping that it would ease some of his rage.

It didn't.

Voldemort glared down at the muggle as Crabbe and Goyle stumbled out of the car and stood over the unconscious man. With a glance they picked the man up between them and looked at their master blankly. The Dark Lord sneered at their need for continuous instruction.

"I don't want the muggle put in with his family. Put him in a cell where they can see him." Voldemort waited a moment as they obeyed and then apparated himself.

As soon as the Dark Lord could feel soft turf under his feet, he all but rushed towards the manor in his agitation.

He wanted to make those filthy creatures suffer. They had harmed his little captive. They would bleed and scream and cry and tremble. Oh how he would make them suffer…

Just as images and plans started forming in his head, he stopped himself. In his rage he would kill them all and that would not do at all. He wanted to draw out their torture as long as possible. That meant that he could do nothing to them tonight.

But he couldn't just leave them to themselves. The fear of being trapped in a strange, cold place was not enough for them.

Voldemort stopped abruptly and turned toward Lucius, who had been scurrying along after him.

"Tell my Death Eaters that they may do as they wish with our new prisoners, but that no one is to kill them. I will deal with them at my leisure." He let some of his rage leak into his tone to emphasize the importance of his instructions. Then just as abruptly as he had stopped, the Dark Lord spun back towards the entrance and stalked into the manor.

He had to soothe some of his rage; it would be unfortunate if he were to take it out on the boy.

Voldemort paused momentarily in his hurried steps. He had been headed to his rooms, but was that really where he wanted to go?

He could always go to Bella's rooms. She was always willing to allow him to torture her for a little stress-relief… But then she usually liked to try and lure him into her bed afterwards, so no, he didn't want to go to Bella's rooms.

As he pondered his options, he came to the conclusion that the best place for him would be his rooms. He still needed something that would take his mind off his newest prisoners and to keep him doing anything to ruin the boy's potential. He thought about the problem for a bit longer until the solution suddenly came to him.

He would take a bath.

A little relaxation and some time to think would be just what he needed.

The Dark Lord started off again towards his room at a brisk pace. It wasn't long before he reached his destination and stopped short of the door. If he could slip in without Potter noticing he could probably go undisturbed for quite a while. Hopefully luck would be with him and the boy would still be asleep.

Voldemort couldn't sense anyone in the front room and so he eased the door open and slipped in without a sound. The Dark Lord glanced around and then started towards the bedroom. He kept his steps soft so he would make as little noise as possible.

As he passed his private library, he caught a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye. Voldemort glanced into the room to see the boy so absorbed in a book that his face was practically glued to it. He blinked, a bit surprised to have found Potter so interested in his books. He wouldn't have thought of the boy as the type to spend any time reading. Then he smirked as he realized what the boy was reading. Not the sort of thing that a truly light-sided individual would be interested in…

The Dark Lord shook his head and continued on to the bathroom feeling rather amused. The Potter boy sure wasn't what he had expected.

He had fully expected the boy to be dragged in kicking and screaming about how he was good and Voldemort was evil and all the other nonsense that he always seemed to spout whenever they saw each other. He had also thought that whatever the little nuisance was angsting about, that it would be unimportant. They wouldn't let him have a new broomstick or unlimited pocket money or some rubbish like that.

Voldemort reached down and turned on the bath. He began to strip off his clothes as the tub filled.

But instead of acting like he had been captured by the enemy, the boy had come without a fight. Potter had shown a listlessness and apathy had completely shocked the Dark Lord. The boy had always shown so much passion in the past. If Voldemort hadn't known any better he would have though that the light had broken the boy. But the power that the boy had brought with him, that was not the power of a broken toy of the light and it could not be ignored.

No the light had not broken him, they had done something far worse for their cause.

They had lost the boy's trust.

The Dark Lord turned off the tap and eased himself into the hot water before continuing on his train of thought.

It had only served as a further shock, when the apparent cause of the boy's distress turned out to the abuse his 'family' had rained down upon him. At first Voldemort had been barely able to imagine how it could have been allowed. The Savior of the wizarding world being under-fed and beaten by his muggle relatives?

It was preposterous.

The amount of damage a naïve, well-meaning old fool could do never ceased to amaze him.

Voldemort shook his head. Even now, his little captive refused to be bound by the Dark Lord's expectations. He snickered. Off reading dark tomes in a mysterious library…

Potter didn't seem to mind that he might be killed or tortured at any moment. That apathy both impressed and slightly unnerved Voldemort for some reason. The idea of torturing or killing an enemy that almost seemed to want it really bothered him. So really Potter's safety was ensured by the boy's almost suicidal apathy. The irony amused Voldemort greatly and made up for any discomfort on his part.

The Dark Lord frowned slightly. His inexplicable rage was something else that bothered him. He knew that its root was the way that his little captive had been treated by his relatives. He was sure that his Inner Circle had probably figured that much also. _Why_ it bothered him still baffled him. It could have been that it was reminiscent of his own childhood, but that had been a long time ago. He supposed that it probably had to do with the prophecy that his followers had failed to get or something like it.

He dismissed the thoughts, brooding would only make things worse and that was really all he could until he had more information. Voldemort could take his time with making the muggles that had harmed his little captive suffer. In fact the longer he took to take care of them, the longer his Death Eaters had to play with them.

Voldemort stretched and realized that the bath water had gone cold. How long had he been thinking? He scratched his nose and picked himself out of the water. The Dark Lord snatched a towel and starting drying his hair, working his way down his body from there. When he was completely dry, he summoned a pair of soft cotton pants and slipped them on. He fiddled with the drawstring a bit and then headed out of the bathroom.

He entered the bedroom just as the boy did and was very amused at the shock that colored his little captive's face. He looked caught between embarrassment, anger, and strangely, for the first time since Voldemort had seen the boy dragged into the audience chamber, fear.

The boy blushed violently looked everywhere but at Voldemort's chest. The Dark Lord felt like he could have died laughing, seeing the boy's discomfort, but held it in.

Finally the boy sputtered angrily, "W-what are you doing here!"

Voldemort fought to keep a straight face and merely raised an eyebrow.

"This is my room, why wouldn't I be here?" The Dark Lord allowed some of his amusement to leak into his tone. He would have thought that it wouldn't have been too difficult for the boy to figure out whose rooms he'd been in after Voldemort had shown up…

His little captive paled, still fighting to keep his eyes off of the Dark Lord's bared flesh. Voldemort could see that the boy had to work to focus.

Then suddenly the boy looked up and shouted, "Well _I'm_ not sleeping on the floor!"

Though the boy's implication was amusing, Voldemort didn't let it show on his face.

"It's _my_ bed, if you have a problem then _you_ sleep on the floor." Voldemort snickered at the look on the boy's face and received a glare in return. He could tell that his little captive was going to give in soon. His protests seemed like he felt that he had to make them and the boy was truly too tired to make himself care for much longer.

Sure enough, when the boy finally spoke again it was to shout "Fine!" Potter then threw himself on the bed like a sulky two-year-old and slipped under the covers.

Voldemort smirked and got into bed, almost laughing when the boy moved as far away as possible. His little captive turned away quickly but he caught the boy's blush anyway.

* * *

The next thing he knew he felt the slight fuzziness he always felt upon waking. He also felt that he was wrapped around a smaller body. 

The fuzziness was gone.

Voldemort's eyes snapped open and he looked down at the boy that was cuddled so close to him. He was sure that there would be hell when his little captive woke up but he couldn't make himself upset over how they had ended up. The Dark Lord decided that he liked having Potter's body pressed against his.

He sighed and the boy shifted and mumbled apparently slightly woken up by the action. He expected the boy to immediately push away and start shouting but instead of all that Potter mumbled some more and cuddled closer. Since they had been pretty tightly entwined in the first place, this movement left the Dark Lord feeling rather… _uncomfortable. _

They lay like that for several minutes before Voldemort got the reaction he had expected. The boy suddenly looked up at him blearily and then pushed away so violently that he fell off the bed.

Potter jumped up, snatching up his glasses. "What are you playing at Voldemort?"

"What do you mean what am I playing at, do you think that I made you cuddle up to me?" He frowned. He sounded grumpy. He hated when he sounded grumpy. It was so un-dark-lord-ish.

"I did not cuddle up to you!" The boy sounded extremely indignant.

"Oh really? And what was that just a few minutes ago? Were you secretly trying to squeeze me lightly to death?" That caused the boy to flush furiously.

"I wasn't- That was- I was barely awake…" Potterfinished lamely.

"Oh, I see! Of course it's my fault then!" His tone was harsh and sarcastic and it made the boy wince.

Potter looked at a total loss for words. He paled slightly and rushed out of the room. The boy slammed the bathroom door shut and Voldemort heard a click as it was locked.

The Dark Lord swore. That door was spelled so that once it was locked, nothing short of blasting down the door would open it from the outside. He had set it up to keep some of his bolder admirers out when he needed use the facilities.

He could already tell that the boy was angsting.

He walked to the locked door and pounded, shouting through it. "Get out now Potter! I have things to do and if you're in here angsting it'll bother me!" He didn't receive any answer. He stood there like that for several minutes

He didn't have the patience for this.

"Go ahead and have a good cry in there then, _child_!" he growled out with all the disdain he could muster.

Voldemort stomped out of his bedroom and then out of his rooms. He headed for the dungeons.

He needed to make something hurt.

OoToO

**A/N: **Yay! It's done!** Dances **Whew! this chappie was hard… I was a little worried at how it had turned out when I sent it off to my beta, but now I feel really happy about it! But yesyes, if you guys didn't know already, I have a place on my profile where I talk about my update progress. So if you ever find yourself wondering, you can check that out. I keep it pretty up to date… but yes! Please review my dears! I'd love to hear what you think about this chappie!


	8. The Angst of a 'Savior'

**Title:** Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif  
**Beta:** Masked Deception (Formerly Celena Amunet… Love, you change your name more often than Ariel changes her MySpace picture… diss…)  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild not-so-one-sided Severus/Lucius  
**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… As for anything else there might be, there is so **MAJOR ANGST** in this chapter… only kinda not major angst… I dunno… you decide…  
**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**A/N: **I'm so sorrysorrysorry that this update has taken so long, It has truly been hell to write. I'd whine and moan about all the terrible details of why it's been so long, but I don't want to bore you guys with the stupidity that is my real life. I really appreciated all your guys' loverly reviews and all the advice that I got about my review responses. I have to say though, that I'm rather happy that has solved the whole review response problem for me with their new review reply system… **_grins_**

Again, I just want to thank everyone who reviewed. I really appreciated it you guys! I've had the most horrific writer's block… At some points I was so distraught that I would take one look at my computer and just burst into tears… but yes! Your guys' support has kept me from abandoning this ficcie altogether. And finally, here we have it, though most of it came paragraph by agonizing paragraph over the last couple of months…

**IMPORTANT**: okay, so I know that's it's been ages since my last chapter, so I thought that I should give you a summary of chapter 7… So, last chapter: Voldie reluctantly punished Snapey for smarting off, went and snatched up the Dursleys for future torture, gave his Deatheaters permission to play with the Dursleys, went and took a bath to ponder his feelings, 'forced' dear Harry to share a bed with him, cuddled a bit with the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die, got in an angsty screaming fight with poor confuzled Harry, and stalked off to 'go make something hurt'… So yeah… this chappie begins that same morning…

_This chappie is dedicated to **Xenia Marvolo** and my beautiful beta **Masked Deception**! I love you guys!_

But yes! On with the chappie!

OoToO

Harry awoke to a haze of warmth and safety.

It was strange. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt _safe _when waking. At the Dursleys' he had always awakened with fear and at Hogwarts he had merely felt the absence of that fear…

But never safety…

He wondered idly where he was, but his sleep-fogged mind quickly dismissed it as unimportant. Harry was feeling too comfortable to ruin it with wondering. He decided that even with the strangeness of it, he really liked this feeling of being safe.

It was then that he realized he was nestled up against someone else. A very male someone else.

Harry knew beyond his haze that he should have been horrified. He didn't even know who this person was. But again he couldn't bring himself to care. It felt so _right_ to be pressed so closely up against this person. This was why he felt so safe, so protected.

He felt the man sigh and Harry snuggled closer, trying to pull the feeling of being safe into himself. The man stiffened in reaction.

Harry opened his eyes and glanced at the man's face wondering what was wrong, and his confusion quickly turned to horror.

Tom Riddle.

Voldemort.

He was clinging to Voldemort.

Suddenly his memory caught up with him in a rush and he pushed away from the Dark Lord violently. He ended up on the floor but didn't let it faze him. Harry jumped up and snatched his glasses up from a small table.

"What are you playing at Voldemort?" He was proud that his voice stayed firm and didn't quaver. He felt sick with horror.

"What do you mean what am I playing at, do you think that I made you cuddle up to me?" The Dark Lord sounded mildly disgruntled and frowned pensively.

Without really wanting to, Harry observed that Voldemort sounded cutely grumpy and he mentally smacked himself. He gathered as much indignance as he could and shouted.

"I did not cuddle up to you!"

"Oh really? And what was that just a few minutes ago? Were you secretly trying to squeeze me lightly to death?" Harry was ashamed to find himself blushing.

"I wasn't- That was- I was barely awake…" He trailed off, feeling deeply mortified.

Voldemort glared. "Oh, I see! Of course it's my fault then!" He spoke harshly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry winced. Why did it bother him so much that he had the Dark Lord's disdain?

He frantically searched for something to say. He couldn't let Voldemort have the last word, but as he stood there under the Dark Lord disdainful glare he felt his confidence leeching away. Never before in any of their confrontations had Harry felt like such a foolish _child._

He felt the blood rushing from his face and he bolted for the bathroom. He flung the door closed behind him and quickly locked it. He knew it was a futile gesture but hoped that the Dark Lord would be slightly less inclined to destroy his own bathroom door.

Harry heard Voldemort stomp towards the door and he stumbled back away from it.

He jumped and had to restrain a slightly hysterical sound as the Dark Lord started pounding on the door. "Get out now Potter! I have things to do and if you're in here angsting it'll bother me!"

Harry backed away from the door, hugging himself and biting his lip. He wondered in distress where his apathy had gone.

He sorely missed it now.

As the silence grew more and more stifling and uncomfortable, he realized that Voldemort seemed to be waiting for some sort of response.

Well the bastard could blast the door down for all that Harry cared; he was not getting an answer. Harry knew that if he responded, that the Dark Lord would get him out somehow, whether through persuasion or by making him angry enough to come charging back out again.

The teen tensed, expecting Voldemort to blast the door in frustration. Several more minutes passed with him waiting for the door to blow in, but nothing of the sort happened

He jumped as Voldemort suddenly shouted through the door.

"Go ahead and have a good cry in there then, _child_!" The man's disdain cut through him and he tried to keep himself from shaking. Why was he reacting like this?

To his relief, he soon heard the sound of Voldemort's angry stomps leaving the room.

Harry slouched against the wall and slid down to the floor to hug his knees.

He sighed, feeling extremely depressed and confused.

Why _did_ he suddenly care so much what Voldemort thought of him?

They were enemies; they'd always hated each other. Why did it matter now?

Harry's brow wrinkled in thought.

Maybe it was because he seemed to be sensing how the man was feeling towards him.

Harry nodded to himself. That made sense. He had certainly come across people who disliked him in the past, but he had never felt their disgust so strongly or as clearly as he was feeling the Dark Lord's.

But if all that was true, then what had changed? Why did they suddenly seem to have such a strong connection, such a bond? He could tell that Voldemort felt it too, why else would the man have cared about Harry's emotional state?

Harry found himself wondering before he could stop himself, could this all maybe have something to do with what happened at the- he broke off the thought. But doing so made him feel like an emotional coward, so he decided to finish up the thought.

Could it have to do with the- The Department of Mysteries?

He let out a sigh that felt suspiciously like a sob.

So many questions that didn't have answers… So many questions that made him think of things he wished were forgotten…

He almost wished that Voldemort would just torture and kill him. He liked it better when the Dark Lord acted predictably. None of this treating Harry like a guest, not at all like a prisoner, then forcing Harry to share his bed.

To Harry's shame, he felt rather like he would cry and he closed his eyes tightly against the burning tears.

Why was Voldemort doing this? Was it some sort of new torture the man had thought up just for Harry?

But even if that were true, the Dark Lord's reaction had made it clear; he hadn't made Harry react the way he did. So why had he reacted so?

He felt a tear slip through his tightly closed eyelids and furiously scrubbed it away.

It was then that Harry knew that he had to get out of the bathroom. He had to stop thinking like this.

He pushed himself up off the ground and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he made a face.

The teen may not have done much crying but he looked like he had. His eyes were puffy and his nose was red. He glared at his reflection and turned to the door.

He eased open the lock trying to make as little sound as possible, hoping that Voldemort had truly left.

Harry pushed the door open just a bit, peeking out cautiously. He didn't see anyone or anything that made him suspicious, so he slipped out into the bedroom.

The nervous teen then began crossing the room to check the hallway. He picked his feet up and put them down with extreme care. After the way his morning had begun, all Harry wanted to do was to be able to wander and be alone.

As Harry got closer and closer to the doorway, his nerves began to calm and he began to slip into the comfortable way of sneaking that he had perfected at Hogwarts.

He was almost close enough to grasp the doorknob when suddenly a floorboard, which he had stepped on a little too quickly, let out a horrifyingly loud groan.

Muscles tensed, Harry listened closely for the sound of someone approaching, ready at any instant to dash back to the bathroom.

But to his immense relief he didn't hear anything.

He cautiously looked into the hallway and was thankful not to see anyone, not even a House elf.

Harry carefully shuffled out into the hallway, past the library and into the main room without any trouble. He stopped in the middle of the main room. Surely he couldn't be lucky enough to be the only one in the rooms? He waited a few minutes and when no one came, he knew he must have been.

He sighed gustily. Knowing he was alone made him feel slightly better. The teen had been so tensed that, as he started to relax, he realized that his back was full of kinks. Harry rolled his shoulders trying to relieve some of the discomfort to no avail.

He tried to think of what he wanted to do next, of what would do him the most good.

He breathed in deeply and felt a moment calm.

It was in that calm that he noticed that he could still feel frustration radiating from somewhere. It was no wonder that he had felt such distress, some of it had been feeding in from some outside source. As he began to look closer at the emotion which was now clearly not his, suddenly he knew who it was coming from.

Voldemort.

It must have been that intrusion of emotion that had initially set Harry on edge and broken through his apathy.

As for everything else, especially feeling so cut down and vulnerable, that must have been from the shock of being in such a bizarre situation.

So really, none of it meant anything.

Harry suddenly felt the urge to stop analyzing things. He decided to try and look around the base if he could. And of course the idea never occurred to him that he might just be trying to avoid any uncomfortable truths…

He walked over to the door leading out into the corridor and poked his head out. The hallway seemed to be empty, so Harry stepped out and started down it. Harry was pleased to note that he didn't care if he ran into any Deatheaters. It didn't seem to matter that something awful would most likely happen to him if someone were to find him and he was grateful for that indifference.

He continued on, making sure to keep track of where he was going. Loath though he was to return to Voldemort's rooms, he had a feeling that it was the safest place that he knew of at this point in time.

Apathetic as he was, he didn't really feel at this time that dying would be all that good of a thing.

Harry was very careful to keep his mind blank as he walked and because of the contradictory nature of his goals of trying to keep his mind blank and of trying to keep track of where he was going, both conspired to make him extremely distracted.

So as the teen came to an intersection of corridors, he had no inkling that he was no longer alone until someone crashed into him and papers went flying.

The person began cursing colorfully in an alarmingly familiar voice.

Harry looked up in shock from where he had fallen. What was-

"Malfoy! What are _you_ doing here?"

His schoolmate immediately stopped cursing and trying to pick up his papers. He straightened stiffly and looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"No Potter. A better question would be, _what_ are _you_ doing _here_?" The blonde's expression changed to a malicious grin. "Could it be that you've turned Dark?"

Harry started to protest, but Malfoy cut him off before he could even utter a word. "Don't even try to tell me that you're a prisoner… I could see it in your face that you wanted to try. There is no way the Dark Lord would be letting you wander around like this if you were a prisoner."

Harry all but growled. "What makes you think that Voldemort even knows where I am? How do you know I didn't just escape?"

Infuriatingly, the blonde teen completely ignored what Harry had said, as if it wasn't even worth remarking on.

Instead he mused, as if talking to himself. "I wonder what the Dark Lord could be keeping you for?" and much to Harry's mortification, he actually _leered_. "You really have turned Dark."

Harry could feel his anger rise up and he started shouting. "I am not Dark! I hate Voldemort! I hate him! He made my life hell…" he trailed of as his vehemence evaporated away and looked down. He knew that that last part wasn't true… It hadn't really been Voldemort who had made his life hell… It had been the Dursleys. True, Voldemort had been the cause of Harry's living with them, but the Dark Lord hadn't made them behave the way they had…

"It's just… The circumstances being what they were… I couldn't stay there…" Harry looked back up saw a serious look on the face of his school rival. "_I would have died there_!" He quickly looked away again feeling a little embarrassed over his intensity.

But instead of the snide comment, trashing Harry for his angst, that he had expected, Malfoy said a bit ruefully, "Well you certainly have conviction, Potter."

The dark-haired teen looked up at the blond in shock. The Malfoy had a slightly wry twist to his mouth, but didn't look the least bit unkind.

Well at least until he laughed.

After a few moments, the blonde let out an extremely cruel laugh and amended his last statement, "But sometimes conviction is just nothing but stubborn resistance to the truth…"

A wave of despair crashed through Harry. Malfoy had just been giving him hope for an ally in this miserable place, only to crush it viciously.

Some of his despair must have shown on his face, because this time, his schoolmate couldn't resist a comment.

"Aw… It can't really be all _that _bad for everything you ever believed in to crumble…" Malfoy bent and picked up the last of his papers. "And besides, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful plaything for the Dark Lord." At this, the blonde walked away down the hallway chuckling at his own wit.

Harry stood there for a few moments feeling even worse off than he had before his little walk.

He realized that the kinks in his back were also worse and he vainly rolled his shoulders again.

The teen sighed heavily and started back to Voldemort's rooms. He didn't really feel like a walk had been such a good idea anymore.

OoToO

**A/N:** Yay! It's finally written and posted! **_dances_** Again, I'd like thank my loverly reviewers! Without you guys, this story would never have gotten past chapter 1! So the new review response system is awesome-ness, but it neglects my loverly anonymous reviewers! So I would like to thank: heather, Speed Reader, Dark-WereFox, Goth Child of Zyon, Rini, tidus2529, Riyo, **Bebedora**(I don't think you were being too harsh, I agree with you, too many good stories fizzle out like that...), Tess, Zal, Ashley, **CrazyWolfy-BirdyThingymajigr**(You're cute!), ashes2ashes, Elfprincess, Jennifer Hedge

I think that I'm going to take down my review responses for all the previous chappies, so I don't get deleted or anything heinous like that… but if anyone wants theirs, I'm not deleting them off my compy, just private message me and I'll send them to you!

I know that I told some of you that this would be a double update, but at the rate things were going, that was making it unlikely that I'd be able to update at all… So I decided to post this chappie now. That gets the pressure off me for a couple seconds so that I can focus a bit better on my writing. I've already made some good headway on chapter 9, so hopefully I'll be able to get it out within the next week or so… Sorry about that my dears!

Please review! I love to hear what you guys think, even if all you want to do is to yell at me for something…

But yes! I love you guys! **_blows a kiss_**


	9. Regrets of a Horsefaced Woman

**Title:** Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?  
**Author:** Iskjif  
**Beta:** Celena Amunet  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild not-so-one-sided Severus/Lucius

**Warnings:** Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… There's some mildly graphic TORTURE in this chappie and lots of cruelty.  
**Summary:** Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

**A/N: **Gah, I can't even begin to apologize for my awful updating. My only excuse is extremely writer's block. If anyone is still with me I'll love you forever. But yes, I hope you like the chapter! I've lost track of my review responses, so if I haven't responded to you, I am so sorry.

I also apologize in advance for the Latin in this chapter, I made up a spell or two and my Latin is by no means the best…

* * *

**_RECAP_!** (I'm hoping this isn't going to become an every chappie thing):  
Vols, now in Tom Riddle form due to a potion and his own regenerative magic, was having trouble sleeping because a certain Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die was angsting non-stop. So devised a plan to snatch said boy. The plan was unneeded as Harry was so depressed and apathetic that he just walked off with the 'bad guys' without a fight. So now a captive, the boy was subjected to the 'cruelties' of sharing a room and a bed with his nemesis. Vols, finding himself strangely enraged by the boy's home-life went to abduct Harry's relatives. Later after an angsty shouting fight, Vols decided to 'go make something hurt' and Harry went for a walk around the manor. On his walk, the boy ran into Draco Malfoy, who ruined poor Harry's life even more.

* * *

So that's the recap! If any of you lovelies are still confused, go back and reread.

And now (drum roll…) THE CHAPPIE!!!

OoToO

Petunia Dursley lay curled in a ball in the corner of a very small cell.

Though she had been alone with her son for quite some time, she could not stop her thoughts and memories as the swirled in her head. Dudley had stopped trying to comfort her hours ago. He thought that she was just upset about her broken feet. But the true cause of her racking shivers, which had set her to seek the fetal position, was the utter terror of their situation.

Of course at first her cries had been caused by the excruciating pain of having her feet crushed by some vice of unseen power. But when her tormenters had finally trailed out and she was left unmolested, the true horror of her situation had descended upon her.

Even in her near hysteria, she still remembered how mortified she had been when she realized that her brilliant boy did not share her horror. Dudley seemed so rooted in the present that all he understood was that the 'bad men' were gone and that made everything okay.

Petunia shivered violently.

She had been such a blind fool.

The woman held no illusions now. She didn't wonder why this was happening; she didn't even try to pretend.

She knew.

Petunia had always pretended that she didn't notice the outright violence with which her husband and son had treated her nephew. But she had never imagined that it would lead to this.

Apparently her nephew had more connections than they had ever guessed.

An unwanted sound of distress pushed its way from her. Somehow she couldn't help but feel that she _deserved_ this torment. There was no doubt in her mind that they had brought this on themselves.

The woman's despairing thoughts were broken off as a gurgling moan sounded from the cell across the corridor. She painfully pushed up onto her hands and out of her curled position.

Petunia turned slowly towards the cell that held her husband.

She gazed at him sadly as he continued to gurgle and thrash. He had been spasming on and off for hours now.

Before any of the men had come in to torture her or her son, a grim man with sallow skin and flowing black robes had come limping to Vernon's cell. She remembered a strange feeling of recognition, almost as if she had seen the man once before. But he had whisked in quickly, poured some concoction down her husband's throat, and left without a word.

Shortly after that, Vernon's eyes had glazed over and a look of absolute horror had settled over him.

It had yet to leave him.

The first time he had begun to thrash and scream, Petunia had been so terrified that she had started sobbing. But as it happened again and again she had lost her terror of it and now all that was left was crushing despair.

Now her husband was unable to scream. All his throat would allow him was a high pitched gurgle.

Petunia felt another tear slip out.

Even though this man had most likely earned them their punishment in this place with his abuse, she still loved him.

His pain made her ache.

She flinched as she heard a heavy metal door suddenly clang open from just out of sight. Her son let out a tortured whimper and Petunia felt herself freeze in absolute terror.

She stared fixedly out into the corridor between cells as she heard footfall approach.

To her shock, it was not one of the men from earlier, but the young man who had taken them from their home. He glowered into their cell and with a wave of his hand opened the door and stepped in.

The dark-haired young man smiled almost pleasantly as she looked at him, obviously examining him. After about a minute, the woman came to a conclusion.

This young man was not one to be trifled with. And somehow, despite his harmless appearance, she knew that he was also mercilessly cruel.

Petunia's racking shivers began again..

He shrugged off his outer robe and tossed it to the side. Underneath the bulky thing, the dark-haired man was rather slim. He wore a pair of black slacks and a nice, white button-up shirt. Had the circumstances been different, Petunia might have actually taken a moment to admire the young man's attractiveness.

As the man pushed up his sleeves, Petunia's attention was drawn to her son. The boy heaved himself to his feet still sounding winded from his earlier ordeal. She felt all the color drain from her face when Dudley sneered.

"It's the man from yesterday…"

Said man gave the boy a rather bored look but Dudley continued. "He doesn't seem all that tough," her son paused and looked like he had come to some conclusion. "He looks like Harry." Dudley spit to the side in disgust and Petunia's mouth dropped open in shocked horror.

She glanced at their captor and could feel his outrage. But her son obviously sensed no danger because he went on.

"I bet he's a queer like the freak too"

She looked back to the man just in time to see his eyes glow with cold fury. He had such deep, bloody eyes; Petunia was shocked by the bright color of them. The young man's reactions did not bode well for her foolish son.

Dudley opened his mouth again; no doubt to spew more insults and Petunia could not let him go on.

"Be quiet Dudley" she heard herself nearly hiss.

The boy's mouth froze in shock, his mouth still hanging open. She had never used such a tone when speaking to him. He probably had also never heard her call him anything but a pet name before.

The young man smirked viciously.

"Smart woman" he muttered just barely within her hearing.

The young man reached behind his back and pulled out his wand. After his entrance into their cell, she now knew that it was only to scare them more. But seeing the tactic for what it was didn't stop it from working.

The man raised his wand and pointed it at her boy. Again she found herself speaking without intending to.

"Please…" she trailed off shocked that she had spoken.

The young man glanced at her, eyebrow raised, but didn't move his wand. Dudley was now plastered against the wall looking suitably terrified.

Petunia stole a quick glance at her still gurgling husband. "Please S-sir…" she continued meekly, "would you tell me what has been done to my husband…" she paused, uncertain, but pushed on when she saw that she still held his attention. "I know it's bold for one in my position… but please Sir?"

The dark-haired young man glanced behind himself, over at Vernon, looking very much like he was trying to decide whether to ignore her plea or not. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and then an extremely sadistic and satisfied grin stole over his face.

He lowered his wand and turned back to her, grin still in place. Petunia felt a chill of terror clutch at her spine.

"Ah" he breathed, "That has to be one of my favorite potions that I ever created…" If at all possible, his grin seemed to take on an even more malicious edge.

He began toying with his wand and continued, "Would you like to know what it does?"

Despite his cheerfully sadistic words, the woman found her eyes being drawn to the young man's long, sensual fingers as he twirled and played his wand between them. He almost seemed to caress it, that weapon of death. She shivered in involuntary horror; not even questioning how she knew it was a weapon of death.

Suddenly Petunia had a feeling that she knew who this young man was, but the prospect was so awesomely terrible that she couldn't even put words to the thought.

She was saved from any dangerous notions as the young man huffed. The woman refocused her gaze on him and was struck dumb as mild pout took over the young man's expression.

"You know you really are no fun…" he sighed, "It makes it rather difficult for an evil genius to give a good villain speech if you drop your lines. You were supposed to say-" he put on a girly voice, "Oh, oh! What does it do, Mr. Terrible Dark Lord!?"

Petunia, still speechless, merely stared at him in utter shock.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose I'll tell you anyways, despite the fact that you make a terrible audience" the sadistic grin was back in full force. "It really is nasty…"

The young man waited for a moment, apparently hoping for some kind of response and then continued with a slight frown.

"Well in essence, it really is very simple. It shows you the sum of all your thoughts and all your fears." He chuckled, "It shows you where all the landmines are…" The dark-haired man grinned viciously but when she obviously didn't understand what he was getting at he rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "Oh Salazar…"

He attempted another explanation, "It shows you every possible horrific result of all the decisions you've ever made… Every mistake, every foolish decision, every cruelty. You see scenario after hideous scenario, all the worst consequences of your actions, every one of them a crushingly possible future." He grinned brightly as his words were punctuated by an anguished gurgle from the other cell.

His grin took on a very satisfied twist as he saw dawning horror on her face.

The young man waited another moment to see if he would get any more of a response from her and he turned back to Dudley.

He raised his wand, sadistic grin still in place.

"Now… On to business…" He paused a moment and licked his lips.

"_Incarcerous_."

Petunia jumped as ropes of energy leapt out of the man's wand and bound her son tightly. Her hand flew to her mouth. The woman didn't want to watch what the man was about to do, but she couldn't turn her eyes away.

The boy immediately began crying and gasping, terrified to be so suddenly restricted.

Still looking immensely happy, the dark-haired man tapped his chin.

"Now what should I do to you first?" he spun his wand between the fingers of his other hand thoughtfully.

Dudley wailed in response.

A terrifyingly malicious expression blossomed on the young man's face.

"I know what I'll start with…" Dudley's sounds of distress instantly gained new volume.

"_Exacuo Inardesco."_

The boy flinched but looked up in confusion when nothing happened immediately.

Petunia turned her attention to the man's wand, also rather confused.

She had been expecting something flashy or immediately violent like the spells that the men from before had cast, but instead the tip of the wand merely glowed an ominous white.

Her poor son was still so dumbstruck that he didn't even react as the man approached him.

"Now this may sting a bit…" The young man chuckled to himself and casually touched the tip of his wand to her son's arm.

Dudley immediately let out an ear-piercing, high-pitched wail and a sickly burning smell filled the cell.

Her mouth fell open, aghast and new tears flooded down her cheeks.

He was branding her baby.

The boy continued to wail as the young wizard traced patterns up his arm and moved to his chest burning through his shirt and to his skin. The dark-haired man burned stars, hearts, scary ghouls, zig-zags, curly things, and all sorts of other random, awful shapes into her poor boy's skin. She wanted to gag or cry out or even just look away, but she couldn't.

Every single shape was scorched into her mind just as surely as it was on his skin.

Just as she was sure she would go mad from the sound and the taste and the smell of it, suddenly the young man stepped away and cocked his head. He looked at her boy as if admiring his work.

Petunia put her hands to her face, digging her fingernails into her cheeks and squeezing her eyes shut.

She must have let out some sort of wounded noise because she soon felt a heavy gaze on her face.

She cracked open her eyes and found herself meeting those bloody eyes. There was strange frown on his face as if he were somehow extremely frustrated. Petunia tried to ignore the sounds of pain coming from Dudley.

"Now, now my dear, that was nothing really." He paused a moment, "Certainly not something to whimper so pathetically about. But don't worry…"

Her eyes widened and his expression took on a sort of twisted smile. She had quickly learned that any reassuring words he gave were to be feared.

"…I'll give you something that's truly worthy of such a whimper…"

Before she could react to that, he raised his wand towards her.

"_Levicorpus._"

Suddenly she found herself being flipped upside-down and – **PAINPAINPAINPAIN** – she could hardly breathe as pain shot through her entire body from her injured foot that she seemed to be hanging from – **PAINPAINPAINPAIN** – a sob was ripped from her every time she shifted and a new wave of unbearable pain washed through her. – **PAINPAINPAINPAIN** – She took a cautious breath. It seemed that – **PAINPAINPAINPAIN** – after the initial pain, there were moments where she could think through the pain. It was only – **PAINPAINPAINPAIN** – every once in a while that it built up to the point where she couldn't take it. As long as she tried not to – **PAINPAINPAINPAIN** – move.

She couldn't see very well, but after a few minutes she watched as the man turned away from her and back to Dudley. She couldn't quite see what he was doing but soon her son was screaming again and Petunia heard her own wail rise to meet his.

This exertion, though small, sent another excruciating wave through her and it must have been too much for her to handle because the next thing she knew she was hitting the ground.

She gasped in pain and lay where she had fallen for a few minutes. She could hear soft crying which she immediately identified as her son's.

Petunia pried her eyes open and another sob was ripped from her as she took in the sight that greeted her.

Her baby boy was slumped in the corner covered in angry burns, bruises and lacerations that were still sluggishly bleeding. His clothing was ripped and charred. He hardly even looked like himself.

When the boy noticed her watching him, he stifled his tears and scrubbed at his eyes with a closed fist. Clearly he had been unbound. He had probably meant to appear strong for her, but somehow had just made himself seem even more pathetic.

They looked at each other for a while until suddenly Dudley seemed to puff himself up. He turned and glared at the young man, Petunia had missed that he was still in the cell. He was leaning against a wall watching them both and his eyes narrowed in response to Dudley's change of expression.

Her boy was now attempting to pull himself up off the ground and failing miserably

Petunia felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. She had no idea what Dudley was thinking, but she was certain it was foolish. She opened her mouth to caution against any rash actions, but the dark-haired man raised his hand, gave her a pointed look and she found she could utter nothing.

He fully intended to allow the boy to damn himself with whatever foolish thoughts he had in his head.

Dudley had given upon trying to stand, but he wasn't giving up entirely.

"You think you're so great, but you're just like my freak of a cousin, you're nothing!" at this point Dudley was red in the face from exertion and gasping. "If you think what you've done to me so far is torture then you're a fat-headed idiot! I've done worse things to the_ freak_ myself!" again gasping, "Anyways, you should be scared! Someone will have called the authorities, and when they find you, you're gonna pay you bastard!" he sneered.

Petunia realized her hand had pressed to her mouth in horror during her son's rant but didn't bother to remove it. Her eyes flashed to their torturer.

His mouth had a hard set to it and his body was tense. She expected him spout some snide comment or shout or storm out or do any number things. She did not expect what he did do.

"_Expuli Eviscero_!"

So quickly that she could hardly register it, her boy started shrieking and his belly opened up to let out his insides. They were falling from him with wet plops and blood was everywhere. She watched, utterly frozen as, at first, he tried to gather his innards back into himself and then started to writhe on the filthy ground, scream after awful scream torn from his despairing throat. Screaming and screaming. Why wasn't she screaming? What was wrong with her that she watched him gasp and shudder and finally lay still and quiet and made no sound of her own?

She sat frozen in shock, completely disbelieving.

Her sweet, foolish baby was dead.

But before she could dwell on that fact she was distracted by a sound from her torturer. Her head snapped around to look at him.

The young man began to walk towards the cell door with a musing frown on his face, when he reached the door he suddenly stopped and turned back towards her.

"Oh, by the way dear, I do believe I sensed a bit of magical potential in you today…" With this said he nodded and walked out of the cell and down the corridor looking oddly disturbed.

Even in her shock, Petunia knew that his disquiet had nothing to do with a guilty conscience.

And at that moment that she heard the heavy metal door clang open and then shut, a low moan pushed it's way out of her and it continued to rise higher and higher until she felt scream after awful scream being torn from her own despairing throat. Screaming and screaming….

OoToO

**AN: **Whew, that was incredibly difficult to write. I've never written anything quite like it and I hope that doesn't show… but yesyes! Please tell me what you thought my lovelies. I'm dying for you feedback!

**And to my dear Beta: **I tried to address all of you comments, though a few of them were left as is. But I hope you like the end result anyways!


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